


Deer at the river

by orphan_account



Category: The Walking Dead, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:03:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Daryl Dixon comes across with a stranger at a river. </p>
<p>POV: stranger<br/>Time: before the zombie apocalypse<br/>Place: somewhere in Georgia, in a forest.</p>
<p>This work contains the mentions of intended/attempted rape, do NOT read if it triggers you.<br/>This work contains rapist slurs, the rapist justifies his own actions for himself - those don't apply to reality, rape CAN'T be justified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deer at the river

Heavy, clumsy steps could be heard as boot covered feet stomped through the layer of fallen dry leaves, the ground resonating with deep hums under the force. He was going through the forest, searching for a shelter, maybe an empty hunter cabin or even an occupied one; it wouldn't matter he would just kill the person to get the place for himself.

Reaching a creek, trying to figure out how to cross it without falling into the water because of a slip of his legs, he heard a thump. Looking up he saw the most breath taking sight in front of him.

A young boy was standing on a great rock, the sunlight pouring down from a clear patch of treetop, illuminating his slim form. He stood tall like a deer, his small eyes rounding slightly, observing him. His blonde hair framed the pretty curve of his face, the ends of the strands curling softly in the light breeze. The line of his cheekbones arched highly under his sharp, brilliant blue eyes, as his soft, pink lips remained closed in a relaxed manner. His pale skin felt soft even if just his craving stare run up and down on it and he knew the delicate skin could be easily bruised.  
The boy was wearing sleeveless flannel shirt, the edges of the fabric were ragged, noting that he could have teared the sleeves down himself, leaving his arms free, and revealing the gorgeous lines of his lightly toned arms. The worn shirt was accompanied with more battered jeans and a pair of shoes what had seen better days.  
He was like Snow white dressed in dirty clothes, but even that shredded outfit couldn’t shade his beauty. 

The young just watched him; making him feeling like a wrong move could break the fragile spell, urging the boy to run away, like a buck what got scared because of the harsh sound of a branch breaking under an uncareful step. And he didn't want that, no he wanted the boy.  
He wanted to grab him, pin him under himself, taste him, fuck him as desperate pleading cries teared up from his young throat, begging for him to stop or for help. But no one would come and after he would realize that, the boy would give up; maybe he would give in and try to make the best of the situation, clinging onto his back, moaning softly for more. Yes, this would it be like - the young would admit it to him and for himself that he wanted this, wanted to be fucked by him.

Licking over his lips as they became dry because of the hot images he took a tentative step towards the other, but the boy didn't move, not even the tiniest. More steps were taken, bringing him closer to the young as he greeted him, asking the blonde if he got lost, chuckling lightly with a smug tone in his voice, but the boy stayed quiet, starring at him. The distance was eaten up with each step slowly but surely, his hands reaching out with palms up as if he was showing he meant no harm, while the ulterior motive was to make it easier for him to grab the young without giving away his plan with a too fast move.

He was just a few steps away from his victim, from the purpose of his lust when he saw it more clearly than the sun itself. His eyes. That gaze didn't mirror fear or shock like a deer's would. The young's eyes were rigidly boring into him, his narrow eyes watching him with sharp edges, pupils blown wide like a big cat's as its vision focused on its prey. Cold shivered down his spine, every hair standing on the back of his neck on no end as if an ancient instinct woke up in him, every nerve screaming danger in him. Gritting his teeth, ignoring the fear he felt under the young's gaze, he gained momentum, pouncing forward, trying to find a grip on the boy when a white glint flashed. 

He could feel the warmth flowing down his throat before the pain burned his skin in a line. Clamping his hand over his neck, he could feel a clear, deep cut on it, realization dawning down on him as he saw a knife in the other's hand. The fucker slit his throat.  
Gasping for air, legs becoming unsteady as he lost his footing on the round rocks and fell onto his knees in the river, his mind barely proceed the pain in his legs as his knees connected with the hard surface. His weight was braced onto one of his hands, the rocks digging into his palm while the other tried to keep closed the fatal wound as disgusting, wet gurgles bubbled up from his slit windpipe. Blood poured steadily from the cut, his vision becoming blurry by reason of the blood loss, his mind losing touch with reality as he collapsed into the river, the vital crimson swirling in the water.

The last thing he saw was sight of the beautiful blonde boy before the darkness devoured him.


End file.
